


Burned Out

by tazlwyrm



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Bromance, Caretaking, Changing POVs, Fever, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Seizures, Sick Noctis Lucis Caelum, Sickfic, TLC, rated T for occasional language, the boys are scared for their boy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-12 20:43:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21482566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tazlwyrm/pseuds/tazlwyrm
Summary: Nobody ever thinks twice about Noctis napping in the back of the Regalia, especially after a full day of hunting, but the boys discover that he is actually passed out with a high-grade fever. With hospitals or risking a drive in the dark being out of the question, they can only hope that their basic care will be enough to get Noctis through the night.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia & Prompto Argentum & Noctis Lucis Caelum & Ignis Scientia
Comments: 15
Kudos: 204





	Burned Out

**Author's Note:**

> I still haven’t actually played the game yet, so this is written based on other fanfictions I’ve been reading and what I remember from the playthrough I watched, like, two years ago. So apologies for any weirdness that doesn’t line up with how things function in-game.
> 
> ** Content warning for a moderately graphic depiction of a seizure **

Noctis had been feeling off lately—that sort of creeping malaise someone feels days before a cold or the flu fully sets in. He really didn’t have time to deal with being sick on top of everything. What with, for lack of a better term, his _entire world_ being turned on its head and its staggering weight sitting snugly on his shoulders. He wasn’t about to take a week or even a few days off just because of some piddly sickness. Not when there was work to do, responsibilities to live up to. _Suck it up. Keep moving._

The decision to power through it, as Noctis discovered, turned out to be a big mistake.

He hadn’t told the others about his situation. It would cause too much unnecessary concern. Not to mention having to sit around with the guilt of wimping out and slowing everyone down over a head cold. That’s all it was anyway. He was sure of it—at the time.

The exhaustion had been easy to brush off as the typical characteristics of his imposed “Prince of Sleep” title. The tickle in his throat which developed into a cough was a little more difficult to hide. Nobody had outright said anything about it, but Ignis had discreetly pressed some cough suppressants into his hand a few nights back, suggesting that he move out of the path of their campfire’s smoke.

Noctis knew from then that this would be impossible to ignore or hide in a matter of time. What he didn’t expect was for it to hit him tenfold without warning.

The desert was without a doubt to blame. They had spent the day taking up some hunts in Leide, working to get some extra gil in their pockets. After hours of walking around and fighting in the beating sun which left Noctis nearly breathless, they were on the road. Noctis had been asleep in what felt like seconds the moment he sat down.

However, he quickly woke maybe only an hour later. He was confused, not registering for a moment what the culprit of his rude awakening was: a painful, heavy feeling. Everything seemed blurry and slowed down, dark spots wavering on the edges of his vision. He felt hot. Way too hot. Definitely a fever suddenly getting the drop on him. The sun, even as low in the sky as it was, hurt his eyes and ignited a throbbing headache. His mouth felt dry, and his throat was on fire—like his skin.

This was bad. He needed help.

Noctis tried to get his friends’ attention. But he couldn’t muster the strength to move or make a sound, unable to get his mouth or throat to work. Against any sort of sense he had left, he gave up. Going back to sleep felt so much easier. Maybe he was overreacting and that was all he really needed. He’d be fine. Just…needed sleep. His gritty eyes closed with little resistance. He faded fast, quietly slipping into darkness in the back seat while the others remained unaware.

* * *

Gladio put down his book and stretched out his shoulders as Ignis pulled the Regalia into the Longwythe Rest Area. It was getting dark, and they had all elected to stop at the motel for the night. Noctis had been out like a light the whole drive, but it wasn’t like he would have minded the decision. As much as Gladio loved camping, making the trek out to a haven, especially at night and after a day of running around the desert, didn’t sound appealing.

The prince looked a bit red in the face from where Gladio sat. Probably forgot to put on sunscreen—he would regret that. He slept on, unperturbed by the car slowing to a stop and jostling slightly as Ignis exited.

“I’ll get us a room,” the adviser said, sounding tried and clearly looking forward to turning in for the night. “If the both of you would wake Noct and gather our things.”

“Sure thing,” Prompto said, hopping out of the car and jogging around to the back, content on removing their duffle bags from the trunk and leaving Gladio with the ever-arduous task of waking up their prince. _Thanks._

The Shield smirked, reaching across the seat to swat Noctis’ arm.

“C’mon, princess,” he insisted. “You can sleep all you want inside.”

It gained no response. As expected.

Gladio slid closer to Noctis, clamping a hand on his shoulder and intending to give him a shake. Instead, he paused the moment he made contact. There was an intense heat radiating off of his friend. He tried to reason with himself that it was just his dark clothes having absorbed the heat of the day, but the close proximity made new discoveries painfully clear. Noctis wasn’t sweating, and a faint wheezing accompanied his breathing that Gladio slapped himself for not noticing sooner.

“Noct?” he called, shaking him. “You okay?”

Still no response, aside from his head listing and dropping to the side.

“Noct…_Noct?_ Noctis!”

Gladio grabbed Noctis and pulled him into his lap to get a better look at him. The motion was still unsuccessful in waking the prince. Was Noctis hurt? Hiding an injury that had gotten infected? No. He knew better than that. Gladio had made sure of it a long time ago.

His shout had gathered Prompto’s full attention. The blonde dropped everything, racing around the side of the car. He gaped at the sight of Noctis laying still in his Shield’s arms.

“What’s going on? What’s wrong with him?” he questioned, his voice high with fear as he leaned over the closed door, tightly gripping the car’s metal frame.

Gladio tapped Noctis’ face in a last ditch effort to rouse him, letting his hand linger. “He’s burning up.”

The car door was suddenly being yanked open and Gladio stiffened, his protective instincts in overdrive at the unexpected crisis. He quickly calmed at the reason for the intrusion. Ignis had raced over, now very much awake and kneeling next to them on the floor of the Regalia to assess their unconscious friend.

“Noct, can you hear me?” he urged, pulling back one of Noctis’ eyelids, checking his temperature and breathing, frowning as he brought his fingers to the pulse point in his neck.

Prompto made an anxious noise in the back of his throat. “Is hepoisoned or something?”

“He wasn’t injured in battle today beyond a few minor scrapes, so I doubt it,” Ignis reasoned, calm and collected despite the mounting panic around him as Noctis remained unresponsive. “I suspect he’s just ill.”

Gladio shook his head. “This is still _bad_, Iggy. He won’t wake up.”

The prince made a choked off whimper in his sleep and Ignis shushed him, gently brushing his dark bangs aside.

"Let’s get him inside,” he said. “We need to bring his fever down at least.”

Ignis and Prompto set about gathering the group’s belongings as Gladio secured his hold on Noctis. He felt sick to his stomach, grimacing at how limp and lifeless he was as he effortlessly lifted him out of the car.

Gladio cradled Noctis against his chest, feeling the insane heat seeping from him. He would give anything for him to respond; to see him open his eyes, to hear him whine about feeling like crap just _once_. Anything that would tell him that his friend was going to be okay. But, there was nothing. The prince remained quiet and still as death.

There was no excuse for this—Gladio had messed up. His charge had been boiling from the inside out while he had been right beside him. Noctis had seemed off for a few days, and he had chalked it up to stress when he should have been checking up on him properly. He should have noticed, and definitely not have forced him into all those extra sparring sessions. _Stupid_.

“I gotcha now, kid,” Gladio told him quietly, holding him closer and finding comfort in feeling Noctis’ breath against his collarbone. “You’re gonna beat this.”

As they made their way to the room, Prompto trotted up beside Gladio, taking in his friend’s pale, sickly face and worrying his bottom lip.

“Why didn’t he say anything?” he questioned in a biting whisper.

_Good fucking question. _Gladio sighed. “Ya got me. Let’s just help him through it, okay?”

Noctis coughed weakly. This was going to be a long night.

* * *

Prompto had seen Noctis sick before—a whining lump under multiple blankets that occasionally tossed out used tissues into an over-flowing trash can, demanding soup and a steady stream of juice, complaining about bitter cough medicine.

This quiet stillness wasn’t right at all and it was terrifying.

Gladio set Noctis onto the bed the moment they got in the room, dutifully leaving as Ignis requested ice.

Prompto stood in the middle of the room, unsure of what to do while nervously fiddling with the hem of his shirt. His eyes didn’t leave his friend. He watched as Ignis began to remove Noctis’ jacket and boots as gently as possible.

“Prompto, would you wet a washcloth with cool water?”

“Ah, right. Sure.”

The motel bathroom was small, so Prompto quickly found what he needed. After wringing the excess water out of the cloth he all but jogged back out the bedroom. Ignis was gathering items from their open med kit, so he went over to the bed and set the compress over Noctis’ heated brow himself.

The prince made a quiet noise of discomfort as he did. It probably felt freezing to him, but it would help. Hopefully. Prompto sat on the edge of the bed and put his hand on Noctis’ shoulder as the prince shuddered.

“Easy, buddy. We gotta cool you down,” he said, moving his thumb in a way he hoped was comforting.

Ignis made his way over holding a cup of water, a bottle of medication, and a thermometer. He would have looked completely calm if not for the small signs of worry that had crept in and settled themselves around his eyes and the corners of his mouth.

“I guess a potion wouldn’t help, would it?” Prompto asked him, standing to be out of the way.

“Unfortunately no.” Ignis slipped the thermometer under Noctis’ tongue with little resistance. “Curatives don’t work for illnesses—for some ungodly reason.”

Prompto tsked. “Can’t have our lives getting too easy.”

“I suppose not,” Ignis said. He took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “His coughing the other night seemed benign, but…I should have been looking after him better.”

“_None of us_ knew this was going on with him.”

Ignis let his hands drop into his lap, nodding minutely but not looking any less guilty. “I always thought he would tell us if he were unwell. He’s certainly never shied away from it in the past.”

“Yeah, he’s definitely a master complainer,” Prompto said, managing a short-lived smile. “I guess…he felt like he couldn’t this time.” _Because _of course_ he would feel like he needed to push himself like this. Gods, everything is so fucked up._

Noctis’ strained breathing filled the silence as he twitched in fitful sleep. 

Watching him intently, pained at seeing his best friend so sick, Prompto sought reassurance. “He’ll be okay…rig—?”

He was interrupted by the thermometer going off. He felt his stomach drop at the reading; 104.5. _Dammit, Noct._ He didn’t have to be a doctor to know how bad that was. Noctis was approaching a very dangerous level—_brain damage_ level if his fever went up any higher.

Ignis swore under his breath. “Sit him up, would you?”

Doing as asked, Prompto gathered Noctis into his arms, sitting on the bed and propping his friend up against his chest. He held him close and fretfully pressed his cheek to Noctis’ fevered temple. The cloth had fallen into the prince’s lap, but they could always replace it later. For now, Ignis seemed set on getting him medicated as soon as possible.

Waking Noct on a good day was hard enough. When he was completely out of it with a high fever, it was a whole other ball game.

Ignis, bless him, gently tried to cajole Noctis into wakefulness; calling to him, tapping his face, shaking him by the shoulder, squeezing his hand.

“Can you wake up for us, Noct?” he pleaded, desperation that Prompto wasn’t used to creeping into his voice. “Please. Only for a moment.”

Prompto sighed; this wasn’t working. “I don’t like to hurt him, but…”

“Desperate times.”

The blonde brought his hand to the side of Noctis’ head and pinched his earlobe. The prince flinched slightly. It was a response at least, but he still didn’t wake up.

“C’mon, buddy,” he encouraged, pinching him again.

This time, they were rewarded with a hiss from Noctis and the sight of his blue, albeit glassy eyes slowly cracking open. Ignis let out a breath and reached for the medicine.

“There he is,” Prompto said, smiling. “You with us, Noct?”

Noctis mumbled something incoherent and delirious under his breath.

“I’ll take that as a ‘sort of ’.”

Ignis shook out two pills—just a simple flu medication they kept on hand that they could only hope would be enough to tackle their friend’s raging fever.

“Highness, you need to take this. It will help,” he fretted, holding one of them to Noctis’ lips and being met with a gaze which indicated that the prince was having trouble understanding what he wanted from him. “Please, Noct. For me. Take it.”

After a moment and a brief flash of clarity flickering in Noctis eyes, he took the pill in his mouth and allowed Ignis to help him drink some water to swallow it down with. Looking relieved, the adviser repeated the same process to get the second one into him, coaxing him into drinking a few more sips before he turned his head away in silent protest.

Ignis and Prompto laid Noctis back down, the latter picking up the forgotten cloth to re-wet it. When he returned, he found Ignis still sitting on the bed, slowly running his hand through the prince’s hair.

“Sleep,” he was telling him. “We’ll look after you.”

_Damn straight_. Prompto rounded the bedside just as Noctis’ bleary eyes were slipping closed again. He replaced the cloth and sat on the opposite bed, facing Noct and putting his chin in his hands. His leg bounced impatiently as he stared at the motel door.

Ignis voiced his thoughts. “Where is Gladio with that ice?”

As if summoned, Gladio returned with a bucket of ice in tow.

“Sorry,” he said gruffly. “Machine was on the fritz. Had to kick it just to get—” his eyes fell on his sick charge, seeming to have forgotten just how awful he looked in the short time he had been away from his side. “Shit.”

Ignis stood. “We managed to get some medication into him, so he should improve.”

“ ‘_Should’_,” Gladio repeated.

“Help me get some ice packs together. We need to do all we can,” Ignis told him.

“Right. Watch over him, blondie?”

“Yup.”

Prompto took Ignis’ place as the other two busied themselves. Light but noticeable tremors had started running through Noctis’ body as he slept, his hands twitching at his sides. Prompto took one of them in his own and he closed his eyes at the heat still plaguing it. The shaking worried him; not knowing whether it was the fever or some nightmare his friend was suffering.

But they’d given Noctis medicine. They were cooling him down. He would be fine, right? Hell, this was _Noct. _He was too strong to let some flu bug take him out. With any luck, he would be better by morning and this could be another bump in the road they could put behind them.

_Please, Noct. Let me be right._

* * *

Ignis was fairly certain that everything was under control. Noctis’ sudden illness had thrown him, but he was no stranger to Noct-related issues rearing their heads, so the rhythm was simple enough to fall into after the initial shock.

His mental checklist was completed after making use of the ice. With Gladio’s help, he had fashioned some ice packs out of some old plastic grocery bags they had held onto which they wrapped in some of their spare shirts. Noctis now had them placed on him in the more vital areas to hopefully take the edge off the intense heat waves he was giving off. _104\. 5…Gods. How did I miss this?_

With some coaxing and visible difficulty, Prompto and Gladio had fallen asleep in the opposite bed. They had all agreed to care for Noctis in shifts; no sense in all of them exhausting themselves. Especially if the prince took a turn for the worse and they all needed to be alert to help him.

The medicine didn’t seem to be working well enough for Noctis at all. He was still feverish, wheezing, and…shaking. Prompto had alerted Ignis to the symptom a few hours prior, and it couldn’t bode well. The hope was that it was fever chills and nothing more, but since when did Noctis ever do anything in halves?

Ignis sat in a chair next to Noctis’ bed, his nerves trying to get the better of him now that he had nothing to keep himself busy. His hands trembled and he squeezed them into fists to combat it. But the silence of the room made his friend’s labored breathing sound deafening and it was slowly chipping away at any semblance of calm he was trying to hold up. It was far too close to death rattles.

_Not today, not like this, not on my watch_. A fever was _not_ going to be the thing that took Noctis away from him. Ignis reached out, and gingerly brushed the backs of his fingers over the sleeping prince’s cheek and along his jawline. He wasn’t expecting any sort of reaction given the heat still raging under the pale skin, but Noctis stirred under his touch.

The prince seemed disoriented, unable to focus on anything; a fact that sent Ignis’ stomach into knots.

“I’m sorry, Noct. I didn’t mean to wake you,” he apologized in a low voice. “How are you feeling?”

It was an admittedly idiotic question which received no answer. Noctis continued to lay on his back as his frighteningly dull eyes had mostly settled on staring at the ceiling. There was an attempt to speak, but he only managed a few nearly silent, wordless grunts. He was also swallowing compulsively, his throat over-working itself.

“Hold on. I’ll get you some water,” Ignis told him, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze before taking the empty cup off the nightstand and heading to the bathroom.

As he returned, a sound far more disturbing than Noctis’ horrid breathing filled the room. Like someone choking. Ignis’ head shot up and what he saw made his heart jump into his throat.

Noctis was convulsing on the bed, his back arched as his limbs twitched and locked in unnatural positions. The cup slipped from Ignis’ hands, spilling water across the carpet; but he paid it no mind as he rushed to his seizing friend’s side.

“Gladio! Prompto!” he shouted, shocking the other two from sleep. In an instant they were behind him, stunned for a moment as they processed what was happening.

“W-what—?” Prompto stammered.

Gladio swore, lurching forward to assist Ignis in tossing the ice packs out of the range of Noctis’ flailing limbs. He clambered up onto the bed and struggled to roll the violently thrashing prince toward him and onto his side. The Shield slid back afterward, within reach of Noctis, but not close enough to risk hurting him by being in the way. His eyes were tremendously pained but attentive.

“We're right here, Noct,” he said with an aching softness rare to his voice. “It’s okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

“Oh, Gods! What do we do?” Prompto pleaded, terrified. “How do we help him?”

He went unanswered. Ignis was too busy counting agonizing seconds in his head. Not that he knew what they would do so far out from any medical help if the seizure lasted too long, but it kept his mind from spiraling with panic. There was nothing more that could be done other than to watch and wait. They couldn’t do _anything_. This was on Noctis to pull through himself.

Ignis’ hands hovered and trembled over the ailing prince. He was fighting every instinct that told him to gather Noctis in his arms and hold him steady. To comfort and protect him from something he couldn’t be protected from. Instead, he counted, tried to breathe, and listened to Gladio keep up a litany of reassurances that he wasn’t sure that Noctis could even hear.

_Stop, Noct. Please stop this._

It felt like hours, but Noctis only continued to seize for another forty seconds before his body began to calm down. As his convulsions faded back to tremors and into stillness, Ignis allowed himself to touch Noctis and check his vitals. Relief flooded him at finding them.

“He breathing okay?” Gladio asked him.

“No worse than he has been,” Ignis said, keeping his hand wrapped around Noctis’ heated wrist just to feel his too-fast heartbeat a little longer. “But it goes without saying that this fever is far too high.”

He turned to Prompto who was still frozen where he stood, breathing heavily with his hand clamped over his mouth as tears streamed from his wide eyes. Ignis felt his heart break a little as he watched Prompto continue to stare at Noctis, shell-shocked as if his best friend hadn’t stopped seizing at all. He reached out to him and took his hand, shaking it lightly.

“Prompto?”

The blonde retracted his hand from his face, exhaling shakily. Despite looking about ready to collapse he asked again, “What do we do?”

Ignis ran his thumb over the back of Noctis’ wrist, searching the prince’s face as if it held any other answers.

“Go and fill the tub,” he told Prompto. “Not cold—lukewarm. We’ll try and force his fever down.”

With a clear, set job given to him, Prompto jogged into the bathroom. Additional light from the small room illuminated the dimness and a harsh sound of running water followed soon after.

Ignis and Gladio set about undressing Noctis, saving his dignity for the time being by letting him keep his boxer briefs. The task was completed in anxious silence. Noctis was voiceless and pliant through the whole thing. He was thankfully conscious, looking tiredly between the two of them as they worked. Ignis took a minute comfort in this sign of Noctis recognizing them and trusting them in his vulnerability. At least the fever wasn’t causing him any delirium that would make him lash out against their ministrations; a small victory.

Gladio gathered the half-naked prince into his arms as carefully as possible. Still, Noctis winced a little at the motion, likely sore from the seizure over anything that Gladio had done. His Shield apologized nonetheless as he carried him across the room.

Prompto was waiting for them in the bathroom. He regarded them with red-rimmed eyes, but he had managed to stop his tears. It did nothing to remedy the lost, uneasy look on his face though. He looked like an absolute mess, although they all did even though only one of them was frightfully ill. Gladio brushed past him to the bathtub and immediately, but slowly, began to lower Noctis into it.

At the first touch of water, Noctis came alive a little. Not violently, just surprised. He twisted further into his Shield’s hold, gripping Gladio’s shirt.

“Ah, no, Noct,” Gladio chided, easily continuing to settle Noctis in the tub despite his weak protest. “It’s for your own good. C’mon.”

“C-_cold_,” Noctis breathed—the first word he had spoken since his whole ordeal began. He was complaining but seemed to put two and two together as to why his friends were subjecting him to this unpleasantness. Within moments, he was laid out mostly submerged with his head resting in the crook of Gladio’s elbow to prevent it from going under.

Ignis took a washcloth and began running it over Noctis’ face, silently fretting over how ghostly pale he was under the bright bathroom light. The dark circles under his eyes and the fevered flush high on his cheeks were glaringly highlighted.

Gladio sighed, clearly frustrated. “Next steps?”

“I…I’m unsure,” Ignis admitted, distracted in his repetitious task.

Prompto, with nothing else to do, had dipped his hand beneath the water to hold Noctis’.

“He needs to see a doctor, guys,” he said, his eyes glistening.

_I know._ “Out of the question,” Ignis said.

“If this gets any worse, we _can’t deal with it ourselves_, Iggy,” Gladio tried to reason, panic-induced anger simmering under the surface, but held back. “What if he has another seizure?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then why the hell—?”

“Taking Noct to a hospital runs the risk of him being recognized by the wrong people,” Ignis interjected, his voice shaking. “He could be killed or taken from us if he’s out of our sight at any point.”

The fight left Gladio, his shoulders and head dropping slightly.

“_Dammit_,” he hissed.

No one added anything else. Three sets of eyes watched the prince intently; he had fallen back to sleep, his breathing just as unsteady as before.

Ignis wracked his brain, pushing back against the encroaching fear that Noctis was going to slip away from them. He didn’t have to go far to come up with a loose plan of action.

“It’s still too dark to risk driving anywhere,” he began.

“Yeah,” Prompto interrupted, sniffling. “I’d hate to have to leave Noct alone in the car while we fight off any daemons.”

“Indeed,” Ignis agreed. _Not to mention what a disaster it would be if something happened to all of them in the process. _“But if Noct isn’t doing better by dawn, we’ll make for an outpost. Perhaps someone there will have better medicine or supplies to combat this.”

Satisfied, Gladio nodded. He put his free hand on Ignis’ shoulder—an apology for the near-outburst. A similar, smaller touch accompanied it as Prompto moved closer at his side.

Ignis’ eyes burned from exhaustion and emotion, but he would not cry. Not yet. Maybe later when this was all over with and he could afford to break fully. When Noctis was well again—because he _would be_.

The three men sat in silence until Noctis started to shiver in the cooling water. Between them, they got him out of the tub, dried, dressed and settled back into bed. Their original plan was forgotten and none of them slept the rest of the night.

* * *

Noctis was having a hard time keeping up. He knew he was sick; he remembered that much. But why did everything have to be so hazy and…time-jumpy? One moment he was in the Regalia and the next he was in someone’s arms, leaning against them as pills and water were coaxed down his throat. His eyes stung, his back hurt, his brain felt like it was boiling in his skull. There were soft voices around him; hands in his, on his face, running through his hair. It was nice. They were points of solidity in the slow, fevered blur.

He knew that _something_ substantial happened though. After one of those jumps in his consciousness. He awoke feeling odd—more so than he had been. Dizzy, with no control over his eyes and his limbs feeling tingly and numb. It was weird. His colds never did this. He was scared. The world was suddenly shaking as he was manhandled onto his side, his hearing a swarm of muffled noises.

The unmistakable timbre of Gladio’s voice talked Noctis through it, though he couldn’t make out the exact words. His Shield sounded softer than he had ever heard before and that should have worried him more than it did. He made the best of the rare occurrence, clinging to it in his fear.

When it was all over, gentle touches that could only belong to Ignis found themselves on Noctis’ neck and wrapped around his wrist. A conversation happened around him. Prompto was crying, he realized; a trembling terror in his voice. _My fault. _He wanted to reach out and reassure him, but everything hurt too much and his friend ran off somewhere.

Gladio and Ignis undressed him. _Weird, but okay. _He allowed it, watching their pained expressions as they did it. They looked nearly as sick as he felt. _My fault._ Large, familiar arms gathered him up, taking him under some lights that irritated his headache.

Noctis wasn’t expecting the water. Freezing liquid touched his feet and he tried to yank himself away from it, failing miserably as his strength wasn’t up to par. He complained in a tone that was whiny even to his own ears. Gladio ignored his plea and said something about it being good for him in his patented 'I’m your Shield and I know better' voice. He let himself be lowered in.

A solid warmth remained behind his head as Ignis passed a damp cloth over his face. He tried to relax, which is difficult when one is neck-deep in cold water and half-brain dead with a fever. Prompto’s hand was holding his again and he tried giving it a light squeeze that he wasn’t quite sure had worked. His body wasn’t exactly good at doing what he wanted at the moment.

The atmosphere was tense as his friends spoke to one another. It wasn’t like he could contribute, so he let his eyes slide shut again.

Noctis stopped waking up feeling worse than before after that. Not entirely better, but like he had finally reached the bottom of a flaming, spiked staircase and had started slowly hobbling back up.

He would wake in between indeterminate lengths of sleep. On his own or at someone’s touch; usually a hand settling on his forehead as the damp cloth sitting there was disturbed and replaced. Someone would urge him to drink water that was put in front of him, which he was grateful for even though he couldn’t manage much before his stomach rolled.

Noctis still felt like crap and was exhausted, quickly passing out again after waking; but the heat raging under his skin was fading. Over time, things got less muddy. He could make sense of every word his friends spoke, and comprehend their faces a lot faster. Concern pinched their features, but it was a step up from pale, unbridled fear. Ignis even smiled at him once before smoothing his hair and very easily talking him back into sleep. He could feel a little better about this whole mess at that. _I’m still in for it later though, aren’t I?_

Eventually, Noctis woke to the light of a late morning filtering into the room. The cloth was gone and he was tucked under the bedsheet. He felt comfortably warm and safe despite the lingering cotton-feeling in his head and a dull soreness in his whole body.

Prompto was sitting right next to him, leaning against the headboard as he fiddled with his phone. Gladio was on the end of the bed, facing away from him. He didn’t seem to be doing anything other than staring at the carpet with his shoulders hunched in clear fatigue. Ignis came into view holding a steaming mug of coffee. He sat on the bed opposite, hardly seeming to process that Noctis was awake and alert until he was greeted with a tired and croaky, “Hey.”

All attention was on Noctis in an instant.

“Noct!” Prompto cried, nearly flinging his phone off the side of the bed in his haste to check his friend’s temperature. The gesture seemed habitual. “Hey yourself.”

Ignis had knelt on the floor to be at eye-level. “Alright, Noct?”

“Been better.”

“Been worse too,” Gladio said, standing with his arms crossed as he eyed the prince critically.

“You had us all scared to death,” Ignis upbraided, his expression vexed. “What were you thinking by not telling us you were unwell?”

“It wasn’t this bad before,” Noctis said, and he wasn’t lying. “It just…knocked me on my ass out of nowhere.”

“That doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t have given it the chance to get this bad,” Gladio snapped. “Dammit, Noct. You’ve gotta _tell us_ about this kind of crap when it happens!”

Noctis winced but didn’t try to argue. They had every right to be upset. He had scared them; he could see it haunting their eyes even as they scolded him.

“It was really touch-and-go there, bud,” Prompto said, lacking the heat shown by the others. “The fever got so bad that you…you had a seizure.”

_Aw, hell_. “Wh—I did?”

Prompto nodded, his eyes suspiciously shiny. “Thought you were dying.”

“If your fever hadn’t broken a few hours ago…I shudder to think what may have happened to you,” Ignis said, absently running his hand up and down Noctis’ arm.

The prince looked at his three friends; disheveled hair and clothing, tired eyes. A map of anxiety that spoke of a lost night’s sleep. In his effort not to let them down, he had clearly done just that—_royally._ This had been so easily avoidable. He saw that now. 

“I’m sorry,” Noctis said, interrupted by a cough. “I just…wanted to be strong, and keep pressing forward I guess. I didn’t mean to…I-I’m sorry.”

Gladio sighed, dropping down onto the side of the bed.

“Listen, kid. I know that I push you a lot,” he said. “I won’t apologize for it though ‘cause it’s to keep you focused and at your best.”

“I know,” Noctis said, nodding weakly. _And I appreciate you for it…sometimes._

"Good,” Gladio said, gently setting his hand onto the crown of the prince’s dark head. “But it also shouldn’t come at the cost of your health. It doesn’t do anyone any good to burn yourself out. I’ve always told you to take care of yourself, right?”

“Right.”

“Sometimes that means letting us know when your body’s kicking its own ass, okay?”

“You deserve proper rest and care when you need it,” Ignis said. “Don’t hesitate next time.”

Prompto nudged Noctis’ shoulder with his own. “None of us are gonna think any less of you over a sick day.”

“Well, you might if they stack up too often,” Noctis said, smiling. It dropped as he added, “This won’t happen again though. I swear…I’m really sorry, guys.”

Ignis cupped his cheek, bringing their foreheads together. “We’re sorry too. We should have noticed this sooner. I believe we’re all a little at fault here. But no more apologies; I’m simply happy that you are on the mend, and I can only hope you’ve learned from this.”

“Yeah. If I even sneeze funny, I’ll be sure to raise the alarm.”

“Smart-ass,” Gladio fondly admonished.

A slightly-altered morning routine followed after Noctis was medicated again. Ignis set about getting together a late breakfast, volunteering Gladio to assist. Prompto kept Noctis company, letting him lean on his shoulder and watch him play some hilariously crappy app game he had found. Despite the promise of food, Noctis found himself snoozing, lulled by the warmth of his friend and the faint sounds of Ignis and Gladio’s voices. It was another two days before Noctis felt well enough to move on, but he let himself be taken care of guilt-free.

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant to be Gen, but you can clearly see my polyship roadtrip bias screaming at you at various points during this. Ah, well.
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> [Tumblr](https://tazlwyrm.tumblr.com/)


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